


Four Seasons

by ImperfectSilence



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drabbles, F/F, I'm not good at consistency, I'm sorry y'all but this is a trainwreck, Semi-connected chapters, Time Skips, plotholes are potholes- break an axle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2019-10-21 14:30:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17644568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperfectSilence/pseuds/ImperfectSilence
Summary: The town is full of memories. Good ones, bad ones, mediocre ones. The streets have seen me conquer, and seen me fall. I've been shot down, been knocked out, had the world swept out from under me. But I've also never smiled wider, shined brighter. It's always been there for me, an escape from the rest of the bland world. This is home away from home, and the stories that make it so.





	1. Chapter 1

                Coming back was a mistake. My first thought of the town, having not been back in four years, was that it hadn’t changed a bit. The main road held the same shops, the same grocers and cashiers. Old lady Mary still waved proudly from her post in the café, as she had since the first time I remembered visiting here. It had been a stupid idea, a poor comment that sparked this whole mess. Raven had been talking about how we needed to do something to celebrate graduation, and while they had been talking about beaches or cruises or European cities, my drunk ass had spat out that we should go to Kentsville. Naturally, the word going around was where the fuck is Kentsville? Jasper pulled it up on his phone, and at first nobody was in favor of it. But, after looking at the trip advisor and remembering some of my stories, they all slowly came around. Except me. I was the only one not in favor of going to the mountains. I was outvoted, and here we are.

                “Clarke! Get your ass back in the car!” Octavia shouted, leaning half out of the window.

                “Raven is still peeing!” I shouted back, leaning on the gas pump. We had been driving all morning and most of the afternoon. Plenty of songs and stories and lively debates about who was going to end up where, or make the most money in the next decade. We were all ready to be brave new adults, or at least play at being them. Raven had an engineering job on an oil rig back home lined up, and Octavia, the world class fencer she was, had competitions and sponsorships. Her boyfriend, sorry, fiancé, Lincoln, had a position with the state department. I was well on the track to med school and doctorship, set to follow in my mother’s footsteps and save lives. Raven argued that her fast income would offset my eventual higher salary, while Octavia and Lincoln pushed that their combined income would beat us out, as neither would hurt for money.

                “Tell her to hurry up, I’m ready to be out of this car!” Octy wasn’t exactly the patient type.

Raven emerged soon after, and we piled back into the car for the cabin. The cabin wasn’t the one my parents always rented, that one was a few miles over, but it was a lit like it. Wood paneling, two story- it had a full kitchen and power, all the modern works. Two bedroom, one and a half bath. We managed to get it at a steal for two weeks in mid-May, which was a shocker as May was prime time for summer mountaining. 

“Clarke, you’re on our suitcases. Octavia, unload the backseat. That’s our dishes and cleaning supplies. I’ll grab the bikes and other fun.” Raven took charge, giving out commands like she was born to. She was the oldest of four, with a single dad. So, she half mothered. It had been annoying for a few years, but grew on you as you realized that she did so out of love, and that you really could depend on her. Her youngest sister was going into high school in the fall, so she didn’t feel too bad about moving on the rig, which due to strict corporate secrecy didn’t have mainland connection. Octavia started lugging bags in, a steady stream of half hearted complaints flowing out like a creek in the spring snowmelt.  Octy only had her older brother, Bellamy, who had enlisted in the marines. She hadn’t been happy with him leaving her behind, and they only talked every once in a while. My own family situation was best left alone. Complicated didn’t even start.

“Octy, you want window bed or wall?” I shouted out, carrying her black suitcase with the stickers from half a dozen countries on the outside.

“Window!” She said as she set a bag in the bathroom.

“Raven?” I asked.

“You mean I don’t get the master?” she joked. “Kidding! You got us this deal, so its yours.” Okay, so the deal wasn’t as nice as it was been originally. When I called, all apologetic and asking if they somehow had any spaces left, the lady recognized my voice. “Clarke? Clarke Griffin?” She had asked. We chatted for a few, catching up, and I ended up landing this sweet deal.

“Hey, Griffin, you said the market was on main?” Raven asked, spinning the keys on her finger.

“Yeah, between the sheriff’s office and the bank. You just want me to go?” I said.

“Nah. We’ll all go. Octy, what’s going on? You’re holding us back, slowpoke!” Raven shots back in the cabin. A blur of young woman sprints past us, and she’s flicking us off and climbing in the shotgun seat.

“I thought you couldn’t wait to be out of the car?” I tease.

“Yeah, but I’m hungry!” She whines with a smile.

That’s the other thing about Octavia, she’s a bottomless pit. We first met when she stole an entire pizza in the dining hall. I had been waiting for six minutes while the next one cooked, and her wicked ass took the whole thing. Naturally, I cried foul and followed her to her table. One fight later, and we were the bets of friends. When my then roommate Harper left for home at the end of semester, I put in for her to transfer into my dorm. Raven joined our group a month later, when she crashed a drone through our ceiling and lit the building on fire.

“When you said small Clarke, you weren’t exaggerating.” The market was small, but the town didn’t really need anything more than it. It was barely four rows of shelves, most holding the staples of simple life. No fancy produce or fad diets here- the meat section had chicken and beef, and one narrow tower of lures and line. I guess if you wanted fish, you caught it yourself. A sign proclaimed that they would clean and gut the fish for $1/pound of finished meat. Octavia made a surprised noise, but just threw a few packs of hook in the cart. We grabbed the necessities, meat and pasta. Jars of sauce and peanut butter, flour and milk. Two cartons of eggs, a loaf of bread. Graham crackers and marshmallows. Chocolate. Water bottles and bug spray. Raven had to duck next door to get cash, as her card wouldn’t read in the machine.

With the staples gathered, we made the drive back to the cabin and stocked the kitchen. Our last year, it had been the three of us in one apartment, so we knew the organization style by heart. Raven was the best cook for substantial food, while I could out bake PTSA moms. Octavia had breakfast foods in the basket, since all she ate was eggs for a month. She goes on some strange diets from time to time, probably getting them out of her gym rag. Ever since she was on the cover of EnGard, the fencing magazine, three years ago, she’s had a subscription and reads the thing religiously.

“What do we want tonight?” Raven asked the room, pulling out a pan and oil. “Something simple.” She added.

“Stir Fry?” Octy suggested. When Raven’s face wrinkled, I threw out my own rec.

“Kebabs.”

“We forgot to get charcoal. Tomorrow then.” Raven said, filling a pot for pasta.

After dinner we cracked open a bottle of wine and sipped the sunset down.

“So, day one. What’s on the schedule Clarke?” Octy prompted.

“I’d check for a trail map tomorrow morning for your runs. Seeing the sun rise over the ridgeline is life altering. I plan to sleep in, but we’ll see. Later on, I’d like to visit the river, if that sounds good?“

“And pick up charcoal.” Raven adds.

“And pick up charcoal.”

 

Raven retires first, draining the last of her glass and grabbing first shower. Octavia is soon after, handing me the bottle with a whispered, “Party Girl Griffin.”

In my late high school and early college years, I had hit the scene pretty hard. It was where I met Jasper and Monty, who had shown up to every party since. Octavia had found my habits funny until one night they lost me. It had been an otherwise good night, everyone happily drunk. Somewhere between the boys’ house and our apartment I dropped out of our group. Two hour later, Octy realizes that I’m not there and freaks. It’s been in the 20’s for a week and gently snowing all night. The search party starts, and they’re frantically combing the street for me. That’s’ when she met Lincoln. He had been coming back from work at the library when he saw me out on the sidewalk, blue and shivering. He carried me inside and wrapped me up in blankets. Octavia’s phone lit up when mine turned back on and he called. She wasn’t far from his house, and they won’t tell me what happened that night, but I woke up hung over on his couch. So, as much as Octavia hates drunk me, drunk me got her the man of her dreams.

I debate capping the bottle, but seeing how little is left, I put the bottle to my lips and drink. I have a fairly high tolerance given my size. I’m feeling gently buzzed when I turn in myself, the alcohol blurring out the memories of sitting on the porch with my dad. I do my nightly things and crawl into bed.

 _“Just six more days.”_ I think to myself,


	2. Summer Night's Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Muse wasn't compliant. I wrangled this out of it. Flashback-ish? Memory?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Not a second chapter. More of a flashback or memory.

            We rolled into the town like every other year, car packed to the brim with junk that no one was going to use. Mom packed for a week and a half, like normal, despite us only being up here for the weekend+1. Dad wasn’t much better, taking up half the backseat with his telescope. He was a hung star nerd, spending hours every night we were here looking up. It might have been fun the first three years, when I was five, but it wasn’t like they changed. Me, all I brought was my suitcase and a few books. Cell reception sucked up here, and there was no TV. Podunk, backwater mountain trash. Dad filled up the car while Mom grabbed some necessities from the store. I wasn’t moving until we got to the cabin.

            “It’s hot in here. Are you sure I can’t cut it on for the AC?” I groan.

            “No, Clarke, it’s not safe to run the car while you’re filling it up. I’ve told you a dozen times this trip alone.” He answers.

            “Ughhhh.” I sigh, “How much longer?”

            “Look, I know that you didn’t want to go on this trip. Your friends are all back home, enjoying the first few weeks of summer vacation, and your mother and I dragged you here, but please try and enjoy it? You’ll be back in a few days.” Jake pleads.

            “Fine. I’ll try.” I say.

            The gas clunks closed, and Mom is walking out with our bags. Gas paid for, supplies bought, we set out again. The engine whines going up the mountain, like it does every time, and Mom gives it words of encouragement. They’re so weird.

            The moment we pull up, I grab my bag and head straight for my room. We’ve been here so many times, I know my way around already. I don’t even bother with the lights, just switching the fan on the moment I’m indoors.

            “Clarke? Aren’t you going to help unload?” Mom shouts, but I ignore her.

            “I’ve got this dear, why don’t you go inside and start stocking everything. I’ll start dinner in a few.” Dad negotiates.

            I listen to them setting up the cabin, the door squeaking open and banging closed every few minutes as Dad grabs another bag. A little while later, he pokes into my room long enough to drop off my suitcase before humming back into the kitchen/dining area. Soon, the smell makes its way to my room, and my stomach drags me out.

            “Why, hello there!” Mom says sweetly, “I don’t think we’ve seen you in a very long time. What’s your name again?”

            “Hi.” I grumble, grabbing a seat at the table.

            “Honey, can you grab the forks and knives? I’m dishing out the salad now.” They’re so domestic when we’re here. It’s sickening.

            Dad drops a plate of salad with chicken on it in front of me, while mom hands me a fork and knife.

            “Smells good.” I offer up, grabbing a bite.

“Glad you think so.” Dad shoots back with a smile. “let me know if it lives up to the hype.”

“Jake, this is good.” Mom remarks.

Dinner passes in mostly silence, as we have just spent all day in the car together. Dad is talking about going to talk to the owner of the unit about the gutter he noticed being crooked, as well as how the generators are working. Mom plans on some reading and relaxing. Me, I have no plans. I had tried to get out of this, but no cigar.

By the end of the bowl, I’m yawning. We were up super early. I still manage to work through a small second bowl but retire immediately after.

 

            I’m out the window quietly, using the dishwasher’s clanking as cover. This isn’t my first time sneaking out of the cabin, but I’m not practiced at it. I tiptoe away from the cabin and to the road, where I set off down the hill. The whole town is bunched together, close enough that a few minutes walking will get you to the center of town from near anywhere.

            At the outskirts of town, I cut left down the ravine to the lake. It was a fair guess that someone would be partying, but if I could sneak in or not was debatable.

I could see the flickering lights on trucks as I came round the bend. Soon, the sound of talk and laughter broke through the silence, and the music became discernable.

            “Hey, you looking for someone?” A boy a few years older than me asks.

            “Nope. I’m here for the weekend and this looked cool.” I say.

            “You bet it is! This is the post grad bash, come on!” he says, jogging forward.

            “Hey y’all, this is-“

            “What was your name?” he asks quietly.

            “Clarke.”

            “This is Clarke. Wait, Griffin?” he stops on his tracks.

            “The same.” I shoot back.

            He gives me an up and down, “Damn girl, you grew up. I’m Travis, you played tennis with my younger brother last year.”

            “How’s he doing?” I ask.

            “Ask him yourself.” I’m welcomed into the crowd like a local. Most of the faces I remember, but not all of them. A few of the edge of the crowd stragglers are obviously people’s significant others, but a few just don’t’ look familiar.

“Who’s that?” I ask Jared.

“Over there? That’s Lexa. She moved here last October. Her and her sister Anya. Though, Anya is off at boot camp.” He says. “I’ve got the grab more beer- help yourself to whatever!”

I sang a bottle from a cooler and mingle. It’s a nice party, but still a dead-end town. Most of these kids’ dreams are much farther than the next county. Waitressing and other tourism driven jobs, maybe get married, but not much more. Simple, rather than big.

            “So, I heard you’ve been asking about me.” A chill voice, measured words, precise in its delivery. “I’m Lexa.”

“Nice to meet you!” I turn and take her in from closer. She’s taller than me, and in better shape too. She smells like leather, once you get past the smoke from the fire. Her eyes are sharp, and her stance, while not antagonistic, is not overly friendly. “I’m Clarke.” I finish, measurement complete. “I hadn’t seen you around before, and you don’t seem to be attached to anyone. So,”

            “So, you figured you had a right to my story?” She demands.

            “Whoa, looks like we got off on the wrong foot there. I’m just curious, nothing more. I’ll be gone on Monday if that makes you feel better.”

            “It does.” She says, turning sharply and stalking away.

            I’m flustered, and a little hurt, but I mask it and refuse to leave. I mingle, have a few more drinks, and then, as the party is breaking up, catch a ride home with one of the boys. As we’re pulling away, I swear I see Lexa watching me.

            Slightly drunk, I stumble as I climb through the window. The floor creaks from the other room, and I quickly pretend that I’m getting up rather than turning in.

            “Enjoy your party?” Dad asks, knocking and coming in.

            “What party?” I feign innocence.

            “The one that Mark’s eldest brought you back from.”

            “Oh, that one. It was okay. Nothing special.” I reply.

            “Alright. You’re home for the night now, right?” he asks.

            “Yeah. …you’re not mad?” I ask.

            “nah. Everyone here knows us. Plus, I snuck out to my own fair share of parties when I was your age.” He grins.

            “Dad, mom told me that she met you at your first party. You never snuck out.” I retort.

            “Well, it’s the sentiment that counts. Sleep well.” He says, closing my door and returning to bed.

 

            The next morning, I’m surprisingly the first one up. I lace up my shoes and start an early morning run, before the air really heats up. I’m puffing by the time I cross through main street, not used to running at a higher elevation. I wave hello to the people in the café, cutting down to the lake and starting the trailhead.

            About two thirds of the way around the lake, I’m joined by the maybe fuming Lexa. On second thought, she’s paying me zero mind, tunnel visioning her way around the trail. While she’s passing by me, I speed up to match her. It was a game I played with friends back home to stay in shape, that if our runs coincided, whoever won the race got water for the cooldown. We’re neck and neck for most of the markers, but I’m wearing down fast. I’m not even certain she knows that I’m there until I see the smirk on her face as she runs a little faster. It is on!

            The lake trail was made originally by fishermen who were looking for good spots. When the dam was built, they expanded some of the trail, but not all of it. So, some of it is wide and cleared and marked, and others, like the section we were heading into were not.

            The trail narrowed to one person only, expanding every so often to where if you watched your footing, you could pass someone. At the first expansion, I leapt in front of her, timing it so that she was stuck behind me. The next one, she passed me. We traded lead for the next quarter mile, until the parking lot was in sight again. I was in the lead, and had counted myself the winner, when out of the corner of my eye I see a blur.

            The blur is Lexa, running like a damn deer. She’s easily leaves me in the dust, cutting around trees and over branches and shrubs like the uneven trail is nothing. I admit defeat and reign in my sprint, huffing and puffing to the sign.

            “Not bad for a city girl, Clarke.” She remarks, face flushed from the run.

            “Admit…it…I…had..you..beat. Cheater.” I gasp.

            “Είσαι τυχερός που είσαι χαριτωμένος.” She gargles.

            “Excuse me?”

            “I said would you like a water? I’m getting one from the store.” Lexa asks.

            “Yes, but its’ on me.” I straighten, start the walk to the store as she follows. “It’s a thing my friends and I do. If we meet someone while running, loser gets the water. I lost.”

            “Are we friends?” She asks.

            “Up to you.” I reply.

            “If I say no, do I still get my water?”

            I finish paying the cashier and hand her a bottle. “Yes.”

            “Then I suppose we shall see. Maybe our paths cross again tomorrow? See you, slowpoke.” She grins and walks out.

            “I’m not slow!” I protest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Είσαι τυχερός που είσαι χαριτωμένος - You're lucky you're cute.  
> Apologies if this is terrible grammar. I'm a google translate person for 99% of foreign languages. If you can fix it, I'll happily change it.


	3. Goodbye Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Start of Freshman Year, the fateful meeting.

                “What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?” She asks, laughing in the morning air. We’re sitting on the pier, feet dangling off the dock. The lake isn’t far below, just an inch or two beneath our toes. I busy myself looking at out painted nails, noting the small chips and flecks of missed paint. “tell me.”

                “What day is it?” I ask slowly, quietly.

                “I don’t know. Does it matter?” she scoffs, leaning into my side again. But this time, I don’t ease up or lean back in. she pulls back. “Okay, what’s up. You’re starting to worry me.”

                “It’s August 29.” I choke out.

                “So?”

                “I start school in two days. School is four states away. Lexa, I’ve got to leave.”

                “Oh.” And all at once, the passion, the joking, the easiness that we’ve enjoyed all summer is gone.

                “Lexa, we knew this would happen. I can’t stay here forever. I’ve got things I want to do. I can’t become the best cardiologist in the world if I don’t go to school. I- I’ve got to leave.”

                “How much time?” She asks sullenly.

                “Excuse me?” I ask.

                “How long until you go?” she spits out.

                “Lex..” I say.

                “You’re leaving me. Like everyone else.” She says darkly. “Just go. If it means so much to you, just go.” With that she closes off, draws her knees up and locks tight. I won’t get anything out of her, not when she’s like this. And so I go, I stand up and walk away. Pinpricks of impossible heat dot my eyes and I feel my nose sniffle. But I go. As much as it hurts, I go. I can’t look back. If I do, I won’t leave. And there’s too much riding on this, too many people who’ve pulled favors or gone out of their way to help me. I can’t let them down. Not even for her.

                Packing takes less time than I thought it would. My clothes all fit in the suitcase, my dishes pack away easy. All of the little things I brought are too easy to sweep off their places and into a box. Moving them to the car is even simpler, but it takes longer. My legs are heavy and refuse to move and everything in me tells me I’m making a mistake, that this is wrong, but I have to go. I have to.

                It isn’t until I fill up that it really sinks in. This is goodbye. Probably for good. The chances of her ever forgiving me are…

                It’s goodbye. All packed away, horrifyingly easy, I return to the dock. She’s not there. I didn’t expect her to wait there, but neither did I expect her to leave. She’s not on the road, not in town. Not on the trials or at the house. She’s gone, and I’m running out of time. At the last hour of daylight, I have to give up. I guess saying goodbye in person would be too hard for her. I’m tempted to be angry, but the flush of anger flows right through me and there’s only an empty space left. So, on the porch of the house, alone and feeling so incredibly drained and empty that it _hurts_ , I put down my key. Pulling the leather cord from my hair, I twine it through the notch in the key and hang it on the nob. I start to walk away, but I can’t. I can’t just leave it like this, unfinished and I can’t. Not without something. I can’t just give her back the things she gave and walk away. Can’t just leave like this isn’t killing me, like it didn’t matter, like I wasn’t in love for one beautiful summer. Can’t pretend my heart isn’t breaking. I fish out the necklace, the two cogs clinking on it like the horrific reminder they are. The last pieces of dad’s ship. The only recovered parts. As the sun dips below the horizon, the cord snaps. Clutched white in one hand, I hold the broken chain and one of the gears. The other I string on the leather cord, letting it clink on the key. She would know.

                “ _I’m sorry.”_ I whisper, stepping off the porch and into the car. The last thing I see my mirror is the house, the sun throwing all the windows orange and red.

 

 

* * *

 

                Clarke arrives at school like an exhausted hurricane, one who plowed over dozens of small islands, just to stall as it hits the coast. Much like the weather system, she collapses soon after. Her car is streaked with dust and dirt, mud lodged in all of the usual spots. She pulls in the night before classes start, skipping freshman orientation and opening ceremonies. But, it’s not laziness or lack of interest. She’s… broken. Not shattered but cracked. Her eyes are red, and not just from driving into the sun for long hours. Her bags are haphazard, missing essentials like deodorant and body wash. No flipflops for the showers, nor a rain jacket. The little things people take with them, like photos of their family, reminders of friends, favorite books, all of those are there, but jumbled in a box like she swept them off a shelf in a hurry. Clothes are all tossed in the suitcase, not sorted or folded or cleaned. It’s like she had to clean out wherever she was in a rush. Her belongings are the sort that one ends up with when they get notice their house is collapsing or on fire. She crashes in her bed almost immediately, barely scraping through the pleasantries of meeting a new roommate.

                The next day she isn’t much better. She goes to class, even wakes me up for mine. We go to the dining hall together, and then split for classes. When I see her again, after we’re both done for the day, she’s so strung out. We sort through her suitcase that night, and she’s trying her best, but there’s just something off.

                It’s not for another six days until it clears up, or rather, comes to a head. She’s been going through the motions, but you can feel the undercurrent of exhaustion and worry in her. We come back from the gym to an envelope tucked in front of the door. The envelope is dusty and beaten back and forth. It has no less than six different post office stamps on it, but it’s here. She opens it, carefully, afraid it will bite her. A single bronze gear slides out, and she bursts into tears. I can slowly tease the story out.

                The gear was the only thing they recovered of her dad’s craft. Well, two of them. She pulls the other one up to show me. She’s hesitant to talk about who had this one, careful to not mention anything identifying. But, whoever they were, she was in love. She had to leave suddenly, and she left them this as a promise. And they sent it back. That night, under the shitty AC unit, I held her as she cried herself to sleep. Heartbreak.

                It took weeks, if not months for her to move on. She came back from laundry one day and was sorting through clothes before freezing. She was holding an ACDC shirt like it was going to attack. Gently as I could, I pulled it away and tossed it in the back corner of my closet. (Size M, from the 2009 concert, which wasn’t helpful.)

                Another time, we were walking across the green when someone shouted from down the road. Whatever they said, I didn’t hear. I don’t know if it was the words or the accent, but Clarke flinched and drew in. (We skipped her last class and got ice cream instead. #WorthIt)

                It truly took until mid-October for her to being pulled out. But, that was less on her part and more on the events.

 

* * *

 

                University was tough, but there was so much to do. So many opportunities and organizations and- they all costed money. Money that I didn’t have. My scholarship covered tuition, and I had saved enough for secondhand books, but there was much more than that. Housing and food were covered our freshman year, but after that it was on us. I had no idea how I was going to cover it, but that was a worry for the spring. In hindsight, maybe that’s why I did what I did. Distracted about the future that I didn’t pay attention to the present, or just reckless enough to enjoy it while I could. Either way, I broke into the robotics lab.

                For a university with two different security programs, (one cyber, one physical) they had shitty security. The camera on the lab was on the central network, which meant all I had to do was reset the router nearby to get it offline. One button push, and it was done. The door itself was locked, but it was one of those easy locks- my student ID was able to jimmy the bar out of the way. Lastly, the drone itself. It was better secured- the physical body was locked down while the computers were passworded and secured. But the signal receiver on the drone wasn’t locked down. All I had to do was broadcast a stronger signal, and it would follow my commands. It took me a hot sec to cut through the locks and free the beast, but they had the materials I needed here. Unlocked. Labeled.

I carted the drone out outside, wheeled it past two professors and a couple grad students. No one said a word other than hello. Here I am, not a club member, not professional, unescorted, walking out of a top tier robotics lab with the prize drone and no one bats an eye. I was in the school colors, wearing some shirt from welcoming day, but still!

Once outside, I booted up my laptop and fiddled with the ‘signal booster’. It was a coke can. I cut it open, blunted the edges and built a harness for it. Low tech, but it worked. 70% as good as the real amplifiers. I still had to find the right frequency, but once I did the drone started spinning up.  It was truly a beast, quad rotor, gas powered, with a weight of 45 pounds. Thrust between 30 and 70. Four feet across, not counting rotor blades.

She lifts up cleanly, rising slowly I watch for any wobble, any vectors off center, but there appear to be no problems. Everything looks clear, looks clean. Now we get to have some fun! I send it up more, climbing as fast as it will allow. From 10 feet to 40, to 100 takes no time at all. I pan the camera onboard around, and direct it so. I take it over the green, recording the footage locally. The students and staff below look up in surprise. A few wave, and I waggle the drone back and worth to reply. I cut the slow hover and send it flying down the road, away from campus center. It shoots through the air, scoping out the lacrosse field and the track. No one is a practice right now, but that’s alright. Getting bored, I spin her around and send her toward the dorms. I wonder if I can find my dorm room. In prep, I did hang a yellow bandana on the window. I’m panning over the windows, buzzing the students inside, who are probably freaking out. There are four dorm buildings in the chunk I’m staying at, and from the drone’s perspective I can’t tell which building mine is. So, we search them all. I get more waves and people clamoring for attention, but my eyes are glued to the feed. I’m rounding the corner of the buildings when disaster strikes. The campus used to have an intercom system that was wired up. Used to, but they took it down. But, they didn’t take down all of the wires. As I round the corner, I see the wire stretched from the roof to the pole nearby. I don’t see it in time. I try my best to move, but the drone doesn’t respond immediately, and the left rotor clips the wire.

Immediately, the drone pitches. The left rotor knocked out of alignment causes it to spin. With the vectors thrown off, it careens around, wildly pitching and diving between the road and the dorm. I might- might be able to land it safely. It’ll be close, but I should be able to turn it at the right time to throw it square and then cut power- it’ll be damaged but mostly intact. Sadly, it isn’t meant to be. When out of the lens I see a truck driving up the road, I have to change plans. The drone is big enough that it’ll wreck the truck and maybe hurt the driver. I cut the power to the other left rotor and the drone flops to the side, flipping once and spiraling into a window of someone’s dorm room. The window smashes and the last thing on the feed is a plume of thermal pickup as it catches fire.

I’m going to be in so much trouble. I could try and dodge it, lay low and hope no one finds out, but that would be wrong. And, I owe it to the people. Plus, I have to check and see if anyone was hurt. It missing the bricks and hitting the window was a massive dose of bad luck. I close my laptop and book it, sprinting across the green for the dorms.

“Is everyone alright?!” I shout at the group of people, the paramedics looking up to see me. Two girls are sitting by the truck, neither looking seriously injured.

“Just some minor stuff.” One says, looking at the other. “Clarke?” she prompts.

“I’m fine. Surface abrasions, minor burns, one laceration.” She says.

“laceration!” I shout.

“It means cut.” She explains.

“Why didn’t you say so?” I ask.

“I did.” She says slowly, as if to a toddler. “I take it you crashed your drone into our room?”

“well, technically no.” I say.

“No?”

“Technically?”

“You see I did crash a drone. It did crash in a room, though I was aiming for the wall. And I was flying it.”

“It’s not your drone.” Clarke says drily.

“Bingo! Give the girl a cookie.” I say.

“Miss Reyes? The dean would like a word with you.” A hand lands on my shoulder. A heavy hand, that is gentle so far, but could easily hold me.

“Yeah, I know. I fucked up. You’re both alright though?” I smile, asking the girls.

                “Other than our room destroyed, yeah.” The not-Clarke one says.

                “Okay officer. Take me away.” I say to the security guy.


End file.
